IN A FOG

The earth’s resources once so pure
the soil, the water and the air,
polluted by man’s thoughtless disregard
of all that God put in his care.

It’s been in the name of progress
that we’ve brought us to the brink,
of multiplying illnesses
from what we breathe and eat and drink.

Industries polluting rivers
and the air we breathe to live
dumping toxic chemicals
a death sentence they do give.

Cities having smog days laced with poisons
that the sick stay in their homes,
to go out could spell disaster
communications made by phone.

Many people like myself
have suffered now for years,
our lungs are sick and tired
allergic to everything it’s clear.

To top it all we’re killing ourselves
and those in proximity,
with tars and nicotine befogged
knowing what in time might be.

Russian roulette being played out daily
by all of society,
smoking nails hammered in our coffins
puff by puff the worst will be.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 30, 2007

NO TIME

The race is on we scurry
from one point to the next,
pressed for time and playing catch up
our visage clearly vexed.

The goal we set before us
that of having many things,
puts stress on minds and bodies
tempers flair and tongues do sting.

It makes no sense to have these things
while our families break apart,
if we used some of this precious time
to mend a broken heart.

It’s not the earthly things we crave
that bring peace into our souls,
it’s how we spend God-given talents
teaching all their God to know.

When you trust the Lord and follow
never get too far behind,
keep pace with all His teachings
true happiness you’ll find.

Here today and gone tomorrow
are all things of the earth,
spend time on what’s eternal
we’ll experience new birth.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 29, 2007

VOICELESS

There are people in the world who have no voice
they’re poor, downtrodden, oppressed,
who will take up their cause and seek not applause
when will their lot be addressed.

Their countries are ever in chaos
their leaders so visibly corrupt,
who fill all their many mansions
with riches of which they share not.

One day I believe the tables will turn
and the balance of justice will tip,
and fill all the poors coffers with riches
the others to see poverty, hurts quite a bit.

It takes a lot to get men to understand
that greed is the road to despair,
for it never brings true happiness
that comes when we learn how to share.

May the silence of those having abundance
be broken by the melting of hearts,
let all voices bring greetings and friendship
to the voiceless and make a fresh start.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 28, 2007

FISHING ON THE MOIRA

It’s time to speak in depth of my fishing days
with Mr. Gabourie, one of the old folk who so patiently
took the time to teach me, a very gabby little girl,
the ins and outs of fishing from his boat.
It was a magical event for me as I loved the sound of
the water lapping at the prow and watching the oars dip and
pull, propelling us along at an easy pace.
On sunny days, you could see to the bottom of the river
and were treated with the vision of sunfish glowing in
the sunshine, or shadows of larger fish and at times I saw turtles,
the snapping variety. We’d come upon patches of water lilies that
had a heady odour and a rare beauty as they drifted to and fro on their
long stems, that only let them wander just so far. There was one spot
in the middle of the river where caution was called for as a huge rock
was just below the surface. Mr. Gabourie would give me the duty of sitting
in the prow and warning him when it was near. I really feel he did it to
make me feel important and show me that I was needed.
He was a man of very few words, but by his actions taught me in time
to be quiet as to not scare the fish away. I was having such a wonderful time
I just kept quiet and soaked in the sun, the breeze and the beauty along
the shores of the Moira River. When we got to the spot of his choosing,
He gave me a bamboo pole and taught me how to bait the hook, a rather
squirmy job, but I soon got the hang of it. We would sit in silence for hours
just waiting in anticipation for that tell tale nibbling that made the bobber
jiggle and the water ripple around it, and you knew a fish was sampling
your bait. You gave it enough time to get properly caught, then you would
whip your line out of the water and there on the hook would be more often than not
a rock fish that was more bone than meat so you let him go. Another fish I let go was
the sun fish, as they were all gold and shiny and too pretty to kill. One day I had
a fight on my hands with a red-finned sucker. I was small, and the fish was
big and it gave me a run for my money, but I got him and was proud as
punch and was given praise by my dear sidekick.
One day I caught an eel and I wouldn’t bring it into the boat because it
looked like a snake, so Mr. Gabourie let me drag it in the water to the shore
where he dealt with it and had it for supper. On days when the sun was too hot,
we would patrol close to the shore where there were willows with their
branches hanging down touching the water. He would grab a few and sit on






them so we could fish while enjoying the cool shade.
Along with the shear pleasure of fishing, there were the
sounds of the children out of school for the summer, swimming and
playing near the water, and all the other sounds that were like
back ground music to our ears.
This dear old gentleman and his wife were like grandparents and I loved them
dearly. Gabby, I think short for Gabrielle, used to tell me very bluntly
what she thought my mouth looked like as I chewed my double bubble gum.
I won’t repeat it here. She was sweet and yet feisty and was the occasion for many
a good laugh with her dry humour.
My life wouldn’t have been the same without these two beautiful people
and no matter what happens as I live out my days, I will never forget
the sweetness of their love for me and mine for them.
I pray heaven’s rivers are filled with all the fish he can handle, and that
Gabby is delighting some child in her mansion with the Lord.
See you soon!

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 28, 2007

WHAT HAS TO BE

These days life is too serious
over all there hangs dark clouds,
you’d think all life soon would be wearing
death’s dark and musty shroud.

It’s true the news fills us with saddness
as in countries far away,
our loved ones fight for freedom
and with their lives they pay.

Our nations future leaders
doctors, lawyers, men of God,
give their lives for the homeland
as in foreign lands they trod.

Some speak of the end to come
and shiver in there shoes,
their fear keeps them from growing
they’re frozen in their pews.

It’s not the time for giving up
there’s no reason for our fear,
for Jesus tells us in the Bible
He makes it very clear.

“Nation will rise against nation
on our heads calamities will fall,
don’t panic it’s not yet the end
His mercy still reigns over all”.

When we’re brought before those in power
fear not for what you will say,
for the Spirit will speak from your being
they’ll be astounded at your wisdom that day.

The reward for your faithfulness, glory
your stand for the Lord one of love,
you’ll enjoy His presence so Holy
as you enter His heart up above.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 27, 2007

THEY’RE BACK...

My friends the frogs are back again
day and night ‘reedeep’ their songs,
of love to one another
this sound to Spring belongs.

From the time when I was little
they have been friends of mine,
they’ve sung me to the land of nod
for about the millionth time.

I adored their bulging eyes
their skin so moist and cold,
they have not the means to hurt you
if you squeezed too hard they’d scold.

Some of the boys abused them
it made me often cry,
they were so very helpless
why this cruelty, why?

Long ago God gave them to us
it’s a very special gift,
for when they sing their serenades
it gives our hearts a lift.

Their usefulness in keeping down
the scores of insects everywhere,
the more they eat, the less we’re bitten
and You’ve put them in our care.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 24, 2007

RIVER OF LIFE

As life’s waters flow around me
at times I’m all adrift,
without an oar or paddle
of all aid I am bereft.

Like a weathered leaf I’m tossed
sinking, rising in the foam,
no one knowing of my plight
I suffer it alone.

Where will this river take me
when will this journey cease,
I’m caught in spinning eddies
with no sign of relief.

If you were perchance to meet me
there is no way you could tell,
of what lies below the surface
of this faulty human shell.

Sometimes the hurts are just too deep
I can’t speak the words aloud,
so I wear my mask and cover up
my countenance from the crowd.

Some day with Your help Oh Lord
I’ll speak my piece to those concerned,
and they will finally know my woundedness
I pray lessons will be learned.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 24, 2007

WHERE HAS ALL THE DATA GONE?

I’m noticing as the days and months unfold
my memory for the things of the previous day
have hidden themselves from my search engine and
I can’t retrieve ordinary events that used to
be for me a snap.
Sometimes a word or happening or a prayer
play hide and seek and frustration sets in. It’s
there on the end of my tongue, but I can’t spit it out.
It’s like trying to catch the brass ring on the Merry-Go-Round
without having any fingers. Fear starts to make its presence felt,
and I don’t like fear as it turns us into wimps and ties our hands
and keeps us from making necessary changes, or getting help.
I know that age has something to do with it, and
serious illness which calls for strong medications worsens
the situation.
On the brighter side, my long term memory is blossoming
and it’s wonderful to remember what my childhood was like.
So I guess you could say, one door shuts, another opens,
or God giveth and God taketh away. Praise be to God.
I have had a major fear since we visited Lourdes, France
where on coming out of the Cathedral with my family;
one minute they were with me and the next they were nowhere
to be found. It was as if they vanished before my eyes. I became
frozen in fear, and I didn’t speak French. After what seemed like
hours, I think my angel brought to my mind about the parking lot,
and I knew where that was, so I went there and waited for
them to show up, which they did, later. I was so relieved that I
didn’t mind the scolding I got, which I’m sure came from
his own fear that something had happened to me. I just kept my
lips sealed and thanked God for a happy ending.
To this day I periodically have this nightmare about being
lost and I awaken terrified.
I believe that my memory loss, which is like being lost in
my head is the same as being physically lost, like I was in France.
Help me Lord to accept the things I cannot change.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 22, 2007

QUE SERA SERA

Some people feel they have control over what happens
in their lives and have no need for God. They have pride as
their companion and continue to feed their egos and
the most important word in the dictionary is “I”.
They don’t see that God is always with them and in
fact is in the driver’s seat, but they won’t acknowledge it.
“I can do it myself, I don’t need any help” they say,
not realizing that without Him, they could do nothing.
The only way they can be made to know Him is when
they fail at something and have to face up to their failures, thus
learning that maybe they don’t have all the answers, and just maybe
there’s a Supreme Being after all. Those of us who have blind faith,
are unable to comprehend their thinking because we see the Creator
in all of His Creation.
When you stand outside on the deck late at night and gaze up
into the heavens and contemplate the majesty of the universe,
instinctively you know He exists. All of this was not an accident, but
a gift to all mankind by a God who loves us with a never ending love.
If He were to treat us as we deserve, no man could stand, but He lavishes
us with graces, gifts and blessings and showers us with His Mercy.
From day one, He’s had a plan for each one of us, and we’ve had
two choices from the beginning to choose good or evil. We had better learn all
we can about His promises regarding our choice. One leads to eternal suffering,
and the other to eternal glory.
Make your choice wisely!
Que sera sera!

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 22, 2007

MY HOME TOWN

Tweed was a peaceful, lovely and safe place
to grow up. The Moira River ran through it and under
the towns two bridges, the old and the new, making for a
picturesque and serene postcard-like image indelibly inked
onto our hearts. In those years you knew everyone on
your street and on every other street also. When you went
shopping or just for a walk, you greeted them all and an
outing of shopping took rather a long time, but things
went at a slower pace back then. Times were hard, but
pretty well everyone was in the same boat. They all put in
gardens to fill in where the cash wouldn’t cover.
A town is not a town on its own, but it’s the people
who make up the town, and these people were
top notch. Hard working, church going, helping in a
time of difficulty, good honest people! The streets were
tree-lined and rang out with the joy of children at play, and
we didn’t have to worry much about vandalism or thieves.
As a matter of fact, it wasn’t really necessary to lock our
doors at night. It never crossed your mind to check first
before answering the door, people just walked in, and they
were sincerely welcomed.
One of the landmarks of our town was Donny our milkman
with his horse and wagon. They were a well oiled team.
As he carried the bottles they would clink together, and you knew
fresh milk was on the way; bottles of white and chocolate to replace
the empties already on the porch with the needs of the household
written on a piece of paper protruding from the neck of the bottle.
The bottles had little stiff paper caps, and if you forgot to
bring them in, in the winter, the milk would freeze and protrude
outward like a milk popsicle.
Then there was the clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement
as he slowly continued on, never stopping and his even gait
brought him right where he was supposed to be, at the neighbour’s
house where he and Donny would meet up again.
Every day of our lives back then was graced with Donny’s
cheerful greetings and joyful service to his community, not to forget
his horse who gave all of us town children a chance to touch and
talk to his faithful steed.
When this service came to an end, everyone was saddened, that
in the name of progress we had lost something that machines
could not replace, that of Donny’s smiling countenance
and his cherished horse and wagon. Life goes on!
The park was at the far end of town on Stoco Lake and in our teens,
we wore out our shoes walking there in the summer to swim
and people watch and wile away the warm sunny days with
our peers. The Pavillion was built partly on the water and when
I was older I went to dances there.
The sides opened up to a glorious view of the lake, sometimes
with the moon mirrored on it’s surface, a truly romantic setting.
People came from all the surrounding communities to dance the night away
and enjoy the balmy breeze off the water.
Closer to home, we swam just a stone’s throw away from
our home behind Joey’s house where mom was the
chaperone for everyone and would make us so happy,
the times she joined us in the cool water and relaxed for a spell.
All the schooling I ever got was in Tweed, commencing with
St. Carthagh’s Elementary School and progressing to
Tweed High School where I finished with a business-secretary
course, because I had become to sickly to go on. My first job
was at the Stedman’s Store and it taught me a lot.
I started out in the basement opening up incoming items for
purchase and after that I went to work at each of the
different departments until I became the head honcho of
the Candy Counter. I just loved it there and it was a joy to wait
on the many children who came in to see how much penny candy
they could get for their money. When the new shipments of candy
came in, it was my duty to open them and make a place
on the counter for them. I remember opening waxed boxes
of toasted coconut marshmallows and the smell almost made
you fall over. The variety considering the size of the store,
was astounding and the manager said that if we wanted we could
sample some of the items once in awhile except for the Cashews and
the Peppermint Patties and the Chocolates. They cost the most.
Before I left Stedman’s, I had become a cashier and I
can truthfully say I enjoyed every task I was given,
while I was in their employ. Time brings about change and we move on,
and I did.
My brother Ray was a chartered accountant and did the books
for the store just across the street from Stedman’s. It was an
Appliance Store with a side business of selling licenses for
motor vehicles and the owner Cartha Cassidy was also a
funeral director. Ray put a plug in for me and I got the job of
Licensing Clerk which I totally loved, and I sold the odd
appliance on the side. I kind of was available to whatever chore
came up. I met all types of people,
even loggers who would bring the licenses for their
fleets of trucks for renewal, costing thousands of dollars. Sometimes I
was taken out of the theatre by one of the car dealers
who had made a sale and needed a change of ownership.
I worked out of an old bank teller’s cage
and there were times I didn’t come out when
certain people came in who seemed to have taken a liking to me,
especially one older gentleman who insisted on giving me sweets.
I wasn’t smiling then, but I can now. I used to walk alone to
the bank with the night deposit which at times held thousands
of dollars from License sales and everyone knew me and knew
what I was carrying, but there was never an incident or worry.
After working there for four years I acquired a job at Rayco
Plumbing and Heating in Belleville,
thus ending my stay in Tweed and stepping out on my own at last,
opening another page in my story
to be continued at a later date...

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 21, 2007

THE OLD FOLKS

If I wasn’t in the yard, or at the pond
or playing with the neighbour’s kids,
there was only one other place I would be, and that was
at one of homes of the old folks who lived on our street.
I was drawn to them from the beginning and knew instinctively
that they were very special people.
Their faces were lined with wisdom and knowledge,
and they knew just as much about me.
It seemed to me they enjoyed my visits and I certainly
enjoyed mine. We’d talk about their flowers with so many
vibrant hues, and fishing on the river with Mr. Gabourie.
He taught me all about fishing and how to row his boat.
This man and his wife were the parents of Sister Joan of Arc
who directed the choir when I was a member. They had
the best crab apple tree in their back yard and they let
me have as many as I wanted. I have never in the years
since, tasted the likes again. On the subject of fishing,
well that’s another story for another time.
These people were the salt of the earth and regularly
gave me cookies and gingerale for a treat.
At the end of our street was a stone house,
and the Genereaux lived there. It seemed whenever I went
to visit, I had a piece of bread and butter in my hand,
and just to tease me they said my hand was bandaged.
One day I went over and they were fixing some Boudin
for their meal. It smelled so good and I told them so,
so they insisted on giving me a piece to try.
I don’t know how something that smelled so good
could taste so bad–at least it did to me.
They had a good laugh over it.
Right next door lived my Uncle Levi and my Aunt Tildy
and I went to see them frequently because their house
was full of calendars of every kind, and my Aunt who
was very old wore a number of sweaters and many stockings
to keep warm, then she’d have the oven door open, and sit with
her feet on the oven door.
Her circulation must have been some bad.
Her hand was forever in her pocket because
her Rosary was there and she wore her hair drawn back into a
very tight bun. Uncle Levi used to shave with the straight
razor and I always timed my visits to watch him, he didn’t
seem to mind. They had an ice shed out beside the house and there
were many blocks of ice under a huge pile of sawdust.
We had an iceman who came frequently with his horse and wagon,
and we kids chased him all the way down the street, begging pieces of
ice to make us cool on hot summer days. Lots of times, he obliged.
Today all these lovely people are resting in the Cemetery which
catches the suns rays throughout the day and there are other
spots that rest in the cool shade of the old trees that like sentinels are at
attention in respect for those interred and line the fence
and change the colours of their uniforms with the seasons.
When we go to visit my mom and dads grave, we make the rounds
of all my dear friends from my youth, and I say a little prayer
for them all, and I smile as memories come rushing back,
and I thank God for His gift of
The old folks.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 20, 2007

SATURDAY NIGHT’S ROUTINE

It was a night of preparation, a cleansing some would say
to get us all in readiness for the Sabbath Day.
Mom put the wash tub filled with warm water near the wood stove
on the floor and nearby soap and towels to dry us off.
We were not very old, but I knew already the embarrassment that
could make me blush like a peach in the sunshine, that of
being the untimely visit of the neighbour’s boy who just walked in
unannounced, and stood there staring. I can still feel the
red-hot burning of my skin and I felt I’d never be able to look
him in the eye again. Until we got a modern bathroom, we
had to endure this public bathing. It was such a blessing
when the little house with the moon on the door in our back yard was
taken down for good and the catalogues thrown out.
I remember how our knees and faces shone when our ablutions
were done. How mom used to scrub us and keep us all so neat and clean,
and we’d go to bed that night with white rags in our hair which gave
the effect of ringlets the next day. We were poor, but that
doesn’t have to mean dirty, as we were spotless. Then of course
there was the pleasure of sliding into our beds that smelled
of the outdoors as Saturday night was the time to change
the sheets. Did I say we were poor? I take that back. In retrospect I see that
we were rich in all that mattered, with parents who worked
their fingers to the bone, literally, and saw to it that we knew Jesus.
We met Him everyday in our Rosary Time, and in our child-like
prayers, and through the loving care of the Sisters who
taught us way back when. Thank God for the blessed
childhood we had.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 20, 2007

THE DAY I SET THE HOUSE ON FIRE

I was only just a little thing, having not yet started school.
My eyes and ears didn’t miss a thing, and I do believe
I was usually a very good girl (I think), and
was full of curiosity, watching everything that was
going on around me, taking it all in so to speak.
When my mother baked, there I was right in the
middle of the floury mess begging for a piece of raw dough.
Mother got top marks for patience I can tell you.
Oh the odours that drifted out of that old wood burning,
antiquated stove.
We would start to salivate just from the smell, and when
the first pan of cookies came out we had to have a sample right away.
It is hard to choose from all the things my mother cooked so well,
which was our favourite. At first thought, I’d choose her bread
that was as light as air, and the flavour indescribable.
When she buttered the top of the loaf, the crust would snap
and crackle, inviting you to sample its heavenly texture.
Then there was her turkey dinners, and light and fluffy pancakes,
etc., etc., etc.,
Ah but I’m getting off the topic (do I hear fire engines)?
Just kidding!
We all have habits that stick with us, and my father had one
particular one that got me into trouble.
He was a smoker, and he would take a sliver of wood
from the wood box, put it through the grate and touch the hot coals
to light his cigarette or pipe, never thinking someone might be
looking on (guess who)? Well this was the day for lessons,
and I was about to learn one, pronto.
The flame fascinated me until on putting my sliver into the stove
like my dad, it ignited quickly and flared up sending me into
a panic. What do I do, what do I do? Get rid of it, get rid of it.
So I did, I threw it into the wood box, only to see everything
get worse because there were papers and chips in there to help
start a fire in the morning.
It started to really burn and I stood there frozen in time.
My mother was outside hanging laundry, so I ran to her
yelling at the top of my lungs, Fire, Fire!
Did she move, I didn’t know she had it in her.
What saved the day and my bottom was the fact that
the laundry water was still there in the kitchen so she doused the
fire with that. She was so relieved that I had run and told her,
that she never punished me at all. The result of all this was that
I couldn’t light a match for years, and I have a deep respect for fire.
Curiosity nearly killed this cat.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 19, 2007

YESTERDAY’S WASH DAYS

The way we do this frequent task
has changed greatly over the years.
It has gone from hot and steamy labour, to
what we now find is a breeze
but still manage to complain about.
Back then, wash day started very early
with huge containers of water being heated on
the top of our old black kitchen stove with
the reservoir on the side. The water in
there, being used for washing dishes.
Mom used a scrub board and a large bar of
Sunlight Soap, and every time
she washed the clothing for nine of us,
the ninth being my grandmother, who lived in
another part of the house and my mom
looked after her.
I don’t know how you found the strength
and you had the whitest wash on our street.
I learned from watching you that God is always with us
because I feel He was the one who made it possible
to complete your tasks, right along with Our
Blessed Mother.
Starting with the whites, you scrubbed and sloshed
your way through a virtual mountain of laundry, then
there was the washing, wringing, rinsing, wringing,
carrying the heavy wet clothes out to the line,
hang it all up, it dries, then take it all down,
sprinkle and iron with those old flat irons
you had to heat on the wood stove.
That of course was just the laundry, there were
many other jobs to be done. I can only imagine
the times you must have wept for need of a rest.
Out behind the house there was an old relic
of a wooden washing machine.
I believe it was my grandmothers.
It had a lever on the lid, and when you worked
the lever a piece in it’s center would gyrate,
thus cleaning the clothes, at least it did once.
At that point in time, it was long past its prime,
though I imagine a museum would have loved to get
their hands on it.
To this day, I enjoy watching the clothing being
blown about and snapping in the breeze. I acquired
this love from my mother as she used to mention it every time..
Wash day generated other jobs, like replacing missing buttons,
split seams and darning socks.
When I think of the love that filled your heart
to overflowing day in and day out, I knew that on this
earth, there was nothing that could defeat it.
I don’t think mom ever read the Bible, but
she surely lived it. Thanks mom for keeping
us clean and presentable all those years ago.

Your loving daughter,
Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 19, 2007

THE PATH TO ONENESS

The Good Lord asks that we be one
like the Holy Trinity,
but our humanness a stumbling block
makes it so hard to holy be.

In this world grown hard and cold
the changes have to come,
from all who follow Jesus
then ripple out to everyone.

The first thing that is needed
is with God to reconcile,
and die to self, give up all pride
in love go the extra mile.

To greet ALL of His dear children
with His Love set in our hearts,
to accept them as He showed us
all His love to them impart.

Teach all by our example
point no finger, lest you fall,
then any good that had been done
would be lost to one and all.

Jesus visited with sinners
ate at their table I recall,
He went where He was needed
showed no favorites at all.

Why can’t we be just like Him
for I know it’s His desire,
Oh Lord rekindle in us
Your cleansing Holy Fire.

We cannot do it by ourselves
we need Your Spirits gifts and fruits,
like Your Disciples had when they went forth
our seeds planted to take root.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 18, 2007

WHEN DID IT ALL BEGIN?

Like Rip Van Winkle we’ve awakened
from a deep and drug-like sleep,
to find a world of disrespect, no morals
where so many mothers weep.

Jesus warned us during His Passion
weep not for Him but for our families,
It’s come to pass, it’s here today
He has brought us to our knees.

We live with two major cultures
where death and hatred reign,
babies butchered in the womb
and with hatred making gains.

We see it in the daily news
senseless killings, broken hearts,
no remorse from the evil doers
just icy coldness they impart.

It began when we noticed changes
that didn’t feel just right,
but we wore rose-coloured glasses
never putting up a fight.

Then when voting time came round
we didn’t take the time,
to study what they had to say
and read between the lines.

Long gone the days when candidates
worked for the common good,
now it’s everybody for himself
no one living as they should.

I seems we’ve reached an all-time low
our monies spent by those in power,
as it’s doled out to abortionists
murdering babies by the hour.

Oh God do what You have to do
this evil can’t go on, we pray,
stop the killing and the hatred
or our soul’s death will be our pay.

We’ve been blinded by the evil one
especially those who say, there’s no such thing,
to some degree we’ve all been hypnotized
therefore feeling not his sting.

Turning to our Lord and Saviour
will be the only way,
to bring back to man his decency
with prayer, then love will come to stay.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 17, 2007

MY NEIGHBOUR

We are to treat our neighbour
those up close and those far off
with welcome words of friendship
make no judgments, never scoff.

Use our talents given
by the One Almighty God,
to assist them with what e’er their need
on their feelings never trod.

In return we can expect the same
when times get hard or sad,
their arms can bring you comfort
a trouble shared seems not so bad.

Oh God You knew when long ago
You made these rules for us,
that alone we couldn’t make it
in You, You asked us put our trust.

For we are all Your family
You know our needs before we ask,
You said You’d always be with us
be our help in every task.

You work through friend and neighbour
It’s the way The Father planned,
we need You and each other
to live happy in this land.

Your love hasn’t any boundaries
it’s deep, ever fresh and knowing,
that our each and every fiber
in Your love is every growing.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 17, 2007

THE STATE OF THE ELDERLY

I remember when my parents
took grandma into their care,
without a second thought my mom
said stay with us our lives we’ll share.

It worked out so beautifully
grandma never did complain,
when we kids got too rambunctious
mom tried to keep us tame.

Grandma knew from her experience
just how kids were supposed to be,
so she understood when we were noisy
I think it kept her young you see.

She was gentle, meek and quiet
I remember not her voice,
all I know is that she spoke in French
the language of her choice.

When she began to slip away
mom took extra special care,
her every wish was granted
time for grandma always there.

Mom spoiled her with her many talents
one of which was baking homemade bread,
she’d eat no other but my mother’s
with this manna only she’d be daily fed.

Mom’s meals were always done with love
though not of the richest fare,
but she made it taste like Cordon Blue
for this she had a special flare.

Today they have these nursing homes
where when you come of age,
you’re given a room and little space
to pass your final days.

It seems the family has no time
as in the by gone days,
they’re busy earning money
for their luxuries to pay.

Now our elderly pay the price
loneliness their daily wage,
of living in today’s society
it’s no longer ‘the golden age’.

When we neglect these precious gems
God’s children one and all,
we neglect the Lord in all His Glory
on our heads justice will fall.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 16, 2007

TIME OF MERCY

In this Your time of mercy
Your gift to all mankind,
we kneel before Your image
appealing to Your heart sublime.

Help us all to realize
the error of our ways,
before the Sun stops shining
on our wasted, sinful days.

We think we’re doing really well
owning many earthly things,
but then we suffer from depression
for no happiness they bring.

The more we have the more we want
we see not what our goal should be,
our emptiness is crying out
fill us oh God with Thee.

Pour out upon us Jesus
blood and water from Your side,
wash away our mediocrity
inundate us with the tide...

Of Your Mercy that flows freely
from Your Cross on Calvary,
for all our sins and grievances
You died and set us free.

Out of love You did it Lord
even for the likes of me,
so help me Lord to live the life
that You have planned for me.

Oh Lord, it’s my desire
to start anew with Thee,
reign down Your mercy on us
for all eternity.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 15, 2007

THE AWAKENING

A new day is beginning
with the rising of the Son,
the New Springtime newly budding
there is glory to be won.

In His rising hope eternal
rose from out the tomb,
just as The Light delivered
came forth from Mary’s womb.

The horizon is more clearly seen
our mission now so surely known,
the call of Jesus now so certain
felt deeply in our bones.

The message one of urgency
behold that day is nigh,
we are disciples of the new day
praise to God the Son on high.

Equip us Lord with all that’s needed
make our hearts the storage place,
of Your Word and all your blessings
and full measures of Your Grace.

It’s our desire Lord to follow You
our footsteps close behind
giving to all Your messages of love
so eternal happiness they’ll find.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 12, 2007

ATTITUDE

Life becomes what we put into it
how much we live His way,
if we’re positive or negative
to live out our every day.

With our eyes trained on the negative
it will surely come our way,
when we sow bitter seed to others
the fruits of bitterness will be our pay.

Wasting God’s gift of precious time
on all that’s negative,
He came to show us by example
just how we are to live.

When we dwell upon the positive
like a stone skipped on the water,
it will ripple out to others
bring a harvest to His altar.

For what we sow, so shall we reap
He taught us this so long ago,
so let us sow the positive
and watch all His children grow.

Then all will reap the benefits
and finally learn to share,
all that we have with others
show love to people everywhere.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 10, 2007

WEAK MOMENTS

My discomfort Lord has daily grown
the pain keeps mounting higher,
there’s no position that gives relief
from these fingers of burning fire.

I’m drawn between two choices
one, to suffer Lord with Thee,
for all the wrongs now in the world
to share Your Cross on Calvary.

The second choice comes from the flesh
oh Lord of all pain to be free,
I’m so tired of the burden
can You understand my plea?

I feel so guilty to back away
from the promise I once gave,
to offer all my suffering
for the sins mankind has made.

Oh God I offer You my weaknesses
all that’s dark and selfish, wrong,
I leave it all within Your hands
it’s the place where they belong.

Help me Lord to do Your will
to live for just the now,
not to worry about what’s to come
only You can show me how.

Please forgive my times of feebleness
when I try to change Your will,
I’m the least of all Your children
all my emptiness please fill.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 09, 2007

SCHOOL DAYS

At the age of six, I started the first grade
at St. Carthagh’s Elementary School in Tweed.
I was scared and glad at the same time, but was put
at ease right away by the friendly nuns who taught there.
I remember only a few of them like Sister Chrysostom, Sister
Mary Everista, Sister Mary Carthagh and also Sister Joan of Arc,
who was the organist and choir director of the parish. If there is one
thing I know for certain, it is that they all made a huge impact
on my life, by the way they taught us our ABC’s and enriched our
faith. God bless the sisters of St. Carthagh’s Parish and school.
One of the things that made a lasting mark on my heart was
that when May came around, they would make small altars
honouring Mary in our classroom. There was
something of the miraculous in these shrines, and
we children would go on excursions in the woods
to collect wild flowers to offer to Mary our Mother.
There would be votive candles all around and
each day of May, before class would commence
we would say our prayers and sing hymns to Mary.
I will never forget this, it was so beautiful.
Another not so fragrant memory was that of kneeling in the aisle
beside our desks in the heat of summer praying, while the
odourous reeking running shoes of the person in front was
suffocating the very breath out of us. Sweet memories for sure!
There was a huge school yard where we would have a fun day
just before school would close for the summer. There were all kinds
of games and sports, races of every kind, organized baseball teams where
because of my lack of strength at bat, I was usually the last one chosen.
I lived through it without being marked for life. When winter would
come whistling in, this whole scene became one of a fairyland.
There was a hill behind the school where we could sleigh ride down
it’s side or do the most daring thing of bobsledding at breakneck speed
down the big slope used by the older children. One of the sisters
was a real good sport, and she’d beg a ride on the bobsled. What a
glorious sight with her habit and veil billowing out behind her as
they rocketed down the slope. She was special because she would
show us her childlike side and we felt at ease with her.
This same hill
was to be the occasion of an accident that broke my nose and made me
look like a black eyed Susan for awhile. Someone had made a hump out of
snow at the bottom of a small slope and my cousin Clara, with me behind
her on a piece of cardboard took a turn sliding. Of course when we hit the
bump at the bottom, my face went smashing into Clara’s head , and there
was blood everywhere. On visiting the doctors, he informed me that it had
been a close call, and my nose was broken and is still a bit noticeable even
today. Clara faired better than me! My first impressions of this school
were that it was so clean, with the terrazzo floors shining like glass,
and it seemed to me to be so big. There were two beautiful, larger than
life statues out in the hall which truly made me feel that they
were real. I had the occasion to visit the school some years ago and
was shocked at how much everything had shrunk down to
miniatures. It gave me a feeling like I had lost something, guess it was my
youth. I remember helping make copies on a hectograph and the smell of
the ink is still drifting around in my head, it was a strange odour.
I was enthralled by the nun’s habits and their ways, as they seemed always
so serene. At one time I had ambitions of becoming one of them, but
it wasn’t meant to be. Through the years things changed and one by one
the nuns were leaving and their places taken up by non-religious. An era had passed!
It was a great loss for our parish, and they were missed by everyone, and
to this day I still remember them in my prayers. I like to imagine their
spirits still overseeing the children’s lessons, it’s a nice thought, and
sister Joan of Arc playing the organ and belting out hymns, urging us
on to do the same. It all made for happy memories, it was a special time.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 07, 2007

SORROW’S PATH

A day of pain and suffering Lord, stretches out before You, and
Judas and the Roman Soldiers are now at Gethsemani’s gate.
The time of suffering as the apostles slept has weakened You, but
in resignation You stand and await the betrayer’s kiss like the gentle Lamb
that You are, knowing that it has to be, if God’s children are going to
gain heaven. Under the great weight of what was to come Lord, how did
You keep to the Will of Your Father? As ordinary humans, the chances of
any of us fulfilling a similar mission would be nil. It is all so horrific that
our feeble minds can’t even come close to understanding or imagining
to what length You suffered for us. You took upon Your Sacred body, the
stench and putridness of our sins from the beginning to the end of all
existence.
Possessed now by Satan, Judas does his evil deed, and upon seeing the treatment
that the soldiers were raining down upon Jesus, he ran off for he knew he had
delivered Jesus up to death and not the mission he personally had
fabricated in his mind, of an earthly rule for Jesus. He had misinterpreted
Jesus’ teachings of His Kingdom. In despair he hangs himself erasing any
chance of forgiveness. Lord in these years that have gone by since that fateful
day, we watch through modern day technology, films that depict the story of
Your great Sacrifice, and books that word the event so well that we cringe and
cry out at the despicable way You were treated for us. We who believe cannot
understand why so many don’t believe or don’t care. What will it take to make
them see and hear Your Truths. Help us Lord, show us the way to be healers of
eyes and ears so we can, also by our example, show these wayward souls that the
path of suffering leads to the Kingdom of God, where we will know Resurrection’s
Glory from everlasting to everlasting. Lord Jesus, come and reign in our hearts.
Amen.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 06, 2007

I HAVE SEEN HIM

These were Mary Magdalene’s words as she met with the apostles
after having gone to the tomb and found it empty and having Jesus
appear before her telling her to bring the good news to them. She was
excited and beside herself with joy, appearing to be overwrought and
perhaps gone a little mad in her grief. The apostles did not at first believe
her thus making her even more upset. Peter ran to the tomb and came back
confirming her story and they rejoiced together, finally seeing then what Jesus
had told them, but they had been unable to grasp.
I realize now that after many years I have also finally got the message. I too, have
seen Him. Some may say “who does she think she is, making a statement like that?”
It is true none the less! The lesson coming from Mother Theresa of Calcutta who
saw each person she ministered to as Jesus Christ. The more I thought about it
the more I found it to be true for me and for everyone. The sad and lonely person
you passed on the street and you smiled and said hello, you saw Jesus in him.
When a friend comes to you all broken because of events that have happened in her
family, and you listen with compassion and hold her and cry with her and comfort her
with words of love, it is to Jesus we give succour. When your child has broken some
item that you particularly cherish and stands before you eye’s full of tears and waits
for his punishment all trembling, to pick him up and hold him and tell him it’s OK,
and to kiss him and assure him that he needn’t worry, it is because you see Christ
in him and I will with the most certainty say that the receivers of this kind of love
see Jesus also in the giver of these tender mercies. This is what it’s is all about,
being more like Jesus. He has asked us to be Holy as He is holy and the more we
practice what He has asked us to do, as we gaze into a mirror, the fog will lift and
there before us will be the image of Jesus where we once were. Oh what a day
it will be. Help us Lord to do always your will.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 05, 2007

BREAKING BREAD TOGETHER

I remember all the joyful times
when our relatives came to share,
a place at our dinner table
there were cousins everywhere.

There were many different sittings
and many a dish to wash,
the stories were hilarious
and the food deserved applause.

The following weekend it would be
someone else’s time to host,
and we all broke bread together
to eat turkey, ham or roast.

It was not a competition
except between the older boys,
who tried to be the one who ate
the most he could enjoy.

It wasn’t just the food you see
it was the sharing of our lives,
a time to laugh and sometimes cry
see new babies who’ve arrived.

We fed not just our stomachs
but our hearts and souls as well,
with the mingling of life’s stories
when in all hearts He comes to dwell.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 04, 2007

EASTER MORN

Oh glorious, Holy Easter morn
the Son rising brighter than ever before,
a new way, a new day, Your gift from the Cross
our places in Heaven no longer lost.

Hope sprang eternal from out Your tomb
she’s ever abiding from our time in the womb,
despair has been sent running, no more to impair
awaiting Your promises, we bask in Your Care.

All of Creation is glowing like never before
with a heavenly aura, a glimpse of what lays in store,
for those who would follow the Master’s Way
praise, glory and honour to You ever to pay.

Let us shout Halleluia, lift our voices in praise
our arms to the Heavens forever to raise,
hearts and souls joyfully singing Your praises on high
till the time when You call, and to heaven draw nigh.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Apr. 04, 2007

IT DOESN’T PAY, UNTIL THAT DAY

In this dog eat dog world
you have to be,
as tough as nails
for all to see.

Some rise to the top
at others expense,
stepping on their peers
leaving them broken and bent.

When you’re born with a heart
so soft and so kind,
it’s a struggle to make it
that’s what you will find.

You try to work harder
no time do you waste,
with the boss in or out
you keep the same pace.

You do an honest days work
an example for all,
when it’s time for promotion
you don’t get the call.

But him who was lazy
when the boss was away,
he gets the job
and double the pay.

Now where is the justice
for the one who deserved,
who did what was right
and was thrown a curve.










In this world out of balance
it just doesn’t pay,
to be nice and hard working
you won’t get your day.

But from His view up in Heaven
the tables are turned,
He watches your goodness
it’s the other He’ll spurn.

Your heart full of love
honesty and fair play,
will be your entry ticket
to Heaven one day.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
April 01, 2007